


2015 vs 2019

by GeneratorCat



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Coffee, Gen, cherry pie, rewrite of an old drabble, set right after Jason attacks Tim at Titan Tower, they go have a chat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 16:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19254541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: Tim cradles the mug in his hands gratefully, more for the heat than the coffee itself. The warmth will keep his bruised, sore hands from cramping or stiffening up. The coffee is shit– though he’s still going to drink it. He might get a piece of pie, too.He carefully prods at his split lip with his tongue.Yes, he definitely deserves some pie.





	1. 2019

**Author's Note:**

> I saw in my notes over on tumblr that someone had liked an old drabble-- one of the first ones I ever wrote for JayTim-- and I went and re-read it and said "it’s crazy to see how different it is to how i would write this same scene now #heh that’d be cool– to do a rewrite #like how artists redraw their older peices and you can see the improvement" and then the-casual-cheesecake encouraged me to do it, so i did and it was really fun 
> 
> chapter one is the rewrite and chapter two is the original, for comparison

Tim cradles the mug in his hands gratefully, more for the heat than the coffee itself. The warmth will keep his bruised, sore hands from cramping or stiffening up. The coffee is shit– though he’s still going to drink it. He might get a piece of pie, too. 

He carefully prods at his split lip with his tongue. 

Yes, he definitely deserves some pie. 

“You want pie?” he asks, and Jason, sitting across the rickety table from him, drags his gaze from the cold night beyond the glass window over to Tim. He blinks hard, either from the question or the blood running down into his eye. The cut on his forehead had looked bad earlier, and it’s bleeding through the bandage, but head wounds bleed a lot so it probably isn’t as deep as it seems. If it were, Jason would have done something about it by now. Probably. Maybe. 

Tim doesn’t know how concerned this Jason is about taking care of himself. 

“Yeah,” Jason eventually answers, lips twisted up on one side like there’s something funny about this. “Yeah, I’ll take some pie. You’re buying though.”

Tim rolls his eyes and flags down the unenthusiastic waitress. “Whatever. Could we get some pie?”

“Two plates?” she asks. 

“You know what, just bring the whole thing over. And refills,” he adds, lifting his cup. 

“Thank you,” Jason says to her, giving Tim a scornful look. He mutters something about “rich kids” and “fucking manners”.

And Tim has had enough of being judged by this man, at least for one night, so he says, “You should tell Bruce you’re alive,” (and he is  _ burning _ to know how  _ that _ happened) and watches the way Jason goes quiet, body visibly tensing under his borrowed t-shirt that Kon probably won’t want back and that Jason hadn’t wanted to take in the first place, but a shirt and sweatpants is better than walking around town in that old, torn Robin costume. 

His face twitches like he wants to frown but doesn’t want Tim to see it. “Why should I?”

“Rude, isn’t it? Not to tell your own parent you aren’t dead anymore?”

“It’s not like he doesn’t know,” he counters. “And he’s not…” 

Jason cuts himself off. 

The waitress comes then, dropping a pie tin with a smack of aluminum on laminate. “Hope cherry is okay, it’s all we got left at this hour.” 

Jason gives her a nod and a smile, says, “That’s perfect. Thank you, Maria,” as if he isn’t covered in cuts (glass window shattering, shards falling with them) and bruises (Tim’s fists and feet and staff) and blood. She blushes and nods and smiles back, and when she leaves Tim notices Jason ends up with more fresh, hot coffee in his mug than Tim does. 

“How are you that charming even when you look like shit,” Tim demands, irritated. He pushes his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows, revealing forearms almost totally covered in gauze because there were too many cuts to do individual band-aids for, and grabs a fork to dig in.

Jason glances at him, surprised. “I was just being nice.” He grins, slow and sharp, and Tim looks away. “You think I’m charming?” 

“I think you’re an asshole. I don’t know why everyone loves you so much,” says Tim, and it’s not even that much more harsh than all the things he said during the fight, but something about makes Jason flinch like he didn’t before. 

Jaw set hard, he grinds out, “They don’t. That’s the whole–” He makes a sound like an angry bull. Shakes his head. “He doesn’t love me. No one does. They never did.” 

Tim’s quiet for a moment, feeling like maybe Jason’s forgotten he’s there or who he is, because he’s allowing Tim this glimpse of vulnerability. Because Jason may have shouted all of his rage earlier, but this is  _ hurt _ and  _ pain _ and Tim’s not sure if he’s allowed to being seeing it. 

He’s not very angry– most of that got burned up earlier when he  _ whacked _ Jason across the face with his staff at full strength. But he is annoyed. He glances around to make sure the diner is still empty and Maria is out of earshot, then leans closer. “I meant what I said. No one  _ forgot _ you. My whole time as Robin has been trying to fill the space you left, but it’s fucking  _ impossible _ . Bruce, and Dick, and everyone who knew you, they see me and think  _ Not Jason _ . I’m a good Robin. I’m good enough for that. But I’m not  _ you _ , and they can never forget it, and I can’t either.” 

“ _ I’m _ not me anymore either,” Jason growls. “You act like I could just go back. Walk up to the manor and find Bruce waiting with open arms and a pat on the head. Like he wouldn’t look at me and see how we failed each other, and every way I’m not that boy from before. Even if he did love the kid I was, I’m not that kid now. He can’t love Red Hood.” 

“Is that all you are now? The Hood?” 

He hasn’t touched the pie. “What else is there?” 

“You’re Jason Peter Todd,” Tim answers, and to him that should be enough. That name means so much to him, is heavy with significance, but Jason doesn’t react to it. 

Tim says, “You’re his son.”

Jason’s eyes flash up at him. He says bitterly, “He has a new son.” 

He squeezes his fork so tight it cuts into his hand. “You said it yourself. I’m just the replacement.”

Shaking his head, Jason grabs hold of his mug. It looks like he wants to chuck the thing into the dingy tile wall. “You’re different. He’s different, with you. What’s so  _ special _ about you?”

And he’d asked the same thing right before he tackled Tim through the window at the Tower.  _ Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I don’t. _

Tim feels like they could go around this circle all night. Jason isn’t going to listen to him. Not yet, anyway. Not now. He’s so full of anger and resentment and betrayal and desperation and  _ fear _ that he can’t see past this narrative he’s made up for himself in his mind. 

Tim’s done with this. At least for tonight. 

He scoops out a bite of pie. “Wish they had apple,” he mumbles. “Don’t really like cherry that much.”

Jason stares at him. “Nothing’s good enough for you, is it.”

“I’m allowed to have preferences, asshole.” He brings his free hand up to rub his shoulder. Jason had done a neat job of popping it back into place, but it’ll be tender for a while.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

Jason’s lips lift in a small grin. “No.” He picks up his fork and takes a bite of pie, the same bite Tim was going for. 

“Why’d you stay?” Tim asks. He’d woken up on the floor of the grotto, expecting to be alone or maybe surrounded by the rest of the Titans. Instead he’d rolled over to find Jason sitting leaned against the broken pieces of Donna’s memorial statue, the one Jason himself had knocked over. Jason was running his fingers through the rubble, talking softly, and Tim hadn’t known he could do anything softly. 

“Wanted to make sure you didn’t kick the bucket. That shouldn’t happen to a kid.” 

“But beating one to near-death is fine,” Tim spits, and Jason flinches hard. 

He goes back to staring outside, and Tim can practically see his memories flashing over his face; The Joker, the crowbar, a ripped and bloody Robin. Eventually he says, “You’re right. Guess I wasn’t any better than  _ him _ today, was I.”

“Well.” Tim shrugs. “At least you didn’t blow me up.”

Jason glares like he wishes he had, indeed, blown Tim up and is thinking about doing it right here.

“Too soon? Okay, too soon.”

Maria comes by once more to fill their mugs. 

Early morning light starts to push back the night. 

Tim leaves an excessive amount of cash on the table, and Jason somehow finds this offensive too. 

The bell over the door chimes as they step out onto the sidewalk. Tim needs to get back to Gotham and file up a report to Batman. Jason needs to… do whatever it is Jason does. 

“Listen, Tim.” Jason licks his bottom lip. Shove his hands in his pockets. “Don’t. Don’t tell him everything I said, yeah?” 

“I won’t,” Tim answers. “He needs to hear it from you.” Jason scoffs but Tim ignores it. “And maybe next time you want to hurt Bruce, leave me out of it. You wanna talk to me, that’s fine, but. I’m not the one you’re really mad at here.” 

“Sure feels like I’m mad at you,” Jason says lightly. But then he nods. “Okay. I won’t see you around, Tim.”

Jason heads down the sidewalk. Tim watches him for a minute, then turn and goes in the opposite direction. 

He wonders how likely it is that that’s true, that he won’t see Jason again.  

He wouldn’t bet on it, he decides. 


	2. 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim sits across from Jason Todd in a shady 24 hour diner. Both are still bloody from their fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the original (chapter seven in /here there be drabbles/)

Tim sits across from Jason Todd in a shady 24 hour diner. Both are still bloody from their fight.

“You should tell Bruce you’re alive.” Tim winces. It hurts to speak. He’s pretty sure his jaw is fractured.

“Why?”

“Because he loves you?” He hadn’t intended for it to come out as a question.

“Loved.” Jason scowls. He grabs a napkin and wets it with his glass of water and then gently swipes it along his bruised knuckles. “He loved the kid I was. I’m not that kid now. He can’t love Red Hood. Better to leave him with the memory of me as Robin than what I am now.”

“You’re still Jason.”

“I just told you I’m not.”

“You’re not the boy you were, maybe. I can’t imagine any part of your innocence survived what you’ve been through.”

Tim takes out a small bottle of disinfectant and rolls it across the table. Jason catches it and applies it to his cuts, hissing softly at the sting.

“But you’re Jason. You’re his son.”

Jason’s eyes flash up briefly and then back to his work. “He has a new son.”

Tim sags minutely, shaking his head. “You said it yourself. I’m just the replacement.”

The waitress approaches and refills their coffee mugs. They sip it in silence, letting the minutes rolls by. Tim rubs his sore shoulder.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

Jason smirks. “No.” He fiddles with the sugar packets, forming them into a structure of some sort. “Hey, Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell.”

Tim studies Jason. He sees a lot of things: anger, resentment, betrayal, desperation, fear.

“Okay.”


End file.
